


Can't take my eyes off of you

by tumtummeke



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 16:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3857149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumtummeke/pseuds/tumtummeke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his friends gone home for the summer vacation, Combeferre spends a lot of time alone in the café Musain. That is, until he gets a message from the mysterious 'R'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't take my eyes off of you

**Author's Note:**

> For Ellie, who is awesome and deserves a gift. Many thanks to my beta Kermitty.

Finally, after months of hard work, stress and a truckload of deadlines, it was summer vacation. As soon as their last class had ended, Courfeyrac had taken Jehan to meet his parents for the first time. Enjolras had stayed for one more day, which they had mostly spent planning another protest, but he, too, had left the city to meet with his family. Combeferre would have done the same, were it not for the fact that his parents were celebrating their 30th anniversary with a second honeymoon in Thailand, which meant that he was stuck in Paris by himself.

Fairly quickly, he settled into a comfortable holiday routine: he would sleep until 9, shower and change, and walk over to the café Musain to have breakfast. He'd claim a seat outside, to enjoy the sun, and order a croissant, a cup of tea, and some fruit. He’d make some small talk with Musichetta, one of the waitresses, and after he’d finish his meal, he would stay a while longer to read, or to watch the people coming up to the café for a drink.

After a week or so, he knew the faces of most regular morning customers. There was a sickeningly cute old couple, who had coffee together and bickered whilst solving the puzzles in the newspaper; there was a grumpy businesswoman, who was always rude to the staff, and who was made to wait way longer than necessary before she was handed her morning espresso; there were two students who brought their own cups, always sat in the corner together, and who were, more often than not, joined by Musichetta for a while; and there was this guy that Combeferre had lovingly dubbed 'Hot painter dude'. Hot painter dude was always there when Combeferre arrived and he stayed until after 'Ferre had left again. He had dark curls, vibrant eyes and there was paint on most of his clothes. He drank wine, and he had an entire table covered in papers, random objects serving as paperweights and pencils. For the last two days, Combeferre's people watching really boiled down to watching hot painter dude and trying not to get caught.

-

Today was such a day. He'd just ordered his meal and sat back in his chair, pretending to read a book, but actually watching painter dude, whilst he was waiting for his breakfast to arrive. That was when his phone buzzed. He put his book down on the table and grabbed his phone to check the message, noticing that painter dude was looking at him. 

_< Feuilly>:                                          Ferre, can you pls come over to my place?_

_< Combeferre>:                                 Yeah, sure, are you ok?_

 

Combeferre frowned, instantly going into worry-mode. Feuilly wasn't someone who easily reached out for help.

_< Feuilly>:                                          Sorry. I'd ask Cosette, but she and Marius are out of town. Sorry._

_< Feuilly>:                                          Can you hurry? I'm kind of scared._

 

"Combeferre? You OK, sweetie?" Musichetta asked. She put his tea on the table. More people looked at him, now.

Combeferre dragged a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm OK. But I need to go." He grabbed his walled and handed her a ten euro bill. "Sorry about the food." He stood up, put his phone and wallet back in his pockets and ran home to get his bike.

-

Feuilly lived a few blocks south from where Combeferre shared an apartment with Enjolras and Courfeyrac. Combeferre knew all the shortcuts, so he got to Feuilly's place about ten minutes after they'd texted. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, before ringing the doorbell.

Feuilly's voice rung out, slightly higher pitched than usual. "Can you get the spare key? If I look away, it'll be gone."

Combeferre shook his head, confused, but then shrugged, grabbed the spare key, and opened the door. "Where are you?"

"Bedroom." The reply came.

Following Feuilly's voice up the stairs, he asked, "Are you OK?"

"I'll be fine, when you've caught it."

Combeferre walked into the bedroom and saw Feuilly pressed against his linnen closet, eyes fixed upon, admittedly, quite a big spider. He looked back from the spider to Feuilly and chuckled.

"Don't tell Courfeyrac, please." Feuilly begged, after Combeferre had gently picked up the spider and put it outside. "He'll never let me hear the end of it."

-

The next morning, life was back to normal. Well, almost normal, Combeferre thought, as he was lamenting the loss of his book. He'd forgotten to grab it when he left the Musain in a hurry the previous day. He hoped Musichetta had held it for him. And if not, he'd have to live with people-watching instead. He got to the Musain, and when he was about to walk in, his eyes fell on his regular table. His book was on it.

Musichetta walked out. "Your regular order M. Combeferre?" She smiled.

He smiled in return. "Please. And thank you for the book." He nodded his head towards the table.

"The book?" She asked him.

"I thought you must've… never mind." And he launched into a detailed account of yesterday's spider hunt. After he finished talking, she left to get him his order. He grabbed his book, undecided on whether he would actually read it or look at hot painter dude instead, but when he opened the book a note fell out.

_'Dear Combeferre, I kept your book safe for you, when you ran off yesterday. Unfortunately, your croissant was not so lucky: I ate it. Sorry about that. As payment for this heinous crime, I would like to offer to buy you a new one. Call me. R'._

There was a phone number. Combeferre smiled and carefully folded the paper, sliding it back into the book. He was very grateful to this R, but he wasn't just going to call a stranger. He went back to reading, and occasionally staring at painter dude.

-

When he got to the café the next morning, he found an envelope addressed to him on his usual table. It contained a Spiderman birthday card that read 'for the birthday hero'. The word 'birthday' was scratched out with a permanent marker. He snorted and opened the card.

_'Dear Combeferre, After hearing about the heroic rescue of your friend, I feel even more guilty for what I did. Please, allow me to make it up to you. I feel it's my duty to reward a hero such as yourself. R.'_

Combeferre chuckled and looked up, meeting hot painter dude's curious gaze. He waved the Spiderman card and shrugged his shoulders, chuckling again, before sliding this card into his book as well and eating his breakfast.

-

Over the course of a week, Combeferre kept finding cards in his spot. Some contained bad poetry, some contained book recommendations, some contained witty remarks, but all of them begged him to call this 'R'. He never did. He considered it, sure, but in the end he was too much of a coward to actually call. He was relieved, but also slightly disappointed, when a day came without a card on his table. His disappointment must have been showing, because hot painter dude called over, something oddly satisfied in his eyes, "No cards today, princess?"

Combeferre blushed and looked at him. "Apparently not." Painter dude grinned and went back to his drawing. Combeferre chewed on his croissant pensively. It had been a weird week. For once, he got his book and actually read, getting lost in it immediately and only resurfacing when he heard a phone ringing constantly. He looked up, towards the source of the noise. This source happened to be hot painter dude's table, but the painter was nowhere to be found. He pushed his chair back and walked towards the table. The ringing stopped. Combeferre grabbed the phone anyway, meaning to hand it over to Musichetta, when it started ringing again. He looked at the screen. It read 'home'. Combeferre took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Hi?"

"Oh, thank God. Hi. You found my phone." The painter said.

"Yeah. You left it at the café Musain." Combeferre replied.

"Well, that was pretty dumb. Go me." Combeferre chuckled at that. The painter continued. "I'm really glad you found it. Would you mind hanging on to it for me, until tomorrow?"

"I could just drop it off at your place, if you're ok with that." Combeferre offered. "I'm assuming you live fairly close?"

"That would be even more awesome. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course. Just give me your address and I'll pop over."

"You're saving my life here. Thank you so much. You're an absolute hero." Painter dude said, before giving him his address.

"I'll be there in ten. See you in a bit." He hung up the phone.

-

Exactly eight and a half minutes later, Combeferre was standing in front of hot painter dude's apartment, ringing the bell. The door swung open almost immediately. "Hi. Oh it's you. Book guy from the café." Hot painter dude held out his hand. Combeferre shook it. "I'm Grantaire."

"Combeferre." He replied and he handed Grantaire the phone.

Grantaire smiled. "Thanks a million, Combeferre. Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?"

"That's nice, but," Combeferre started.

Grantaire interrupted. "Oh no, you're not getting out of this one. I insist." And with that he started walking up the stairs towards his apartment. Combeferre followed reluctantly.

"Do you like cinnamon tea, Combeferre?" Grantaire called down. "You know, I'm glad I know your name now. It was getting weird having to refer to you as handsome book guy from the Musain."

Combeferre almost missed a step and then boldly replied with, "Yeah, likewise, hot painter dude."

Grantaire laughed loudly and held the door open for him.

Combeferre walked in, looked at the table and started laughing too. The table was set beautifully, the tea pot filled with hot tea and a single candle between the two plates, which each contained one croissant. "You liar! Oh, very clever, Monsieur Grand R."

Grantaire smiled and grabbed Combeferre's hand. "Dear handsome book guy from the Musain, will you go on a date with me?"

"You know what, hot painter dude, I think I will."

-

Combeferre didn't have to sit by himself any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Title after a Frankie Valli song


End file.
